He woke in the boiler room, aching everywhere. The earlier pain he felt, the burning inside, was gone, leaving behind only a mild throb. Swallowing his lethargy, he dragged himself up to shake Kamaji.
"Kamaji, Kamaji. Wake up!"
The old spider shook his head a little, as if to clear away the fog of sleep, before peering at him over the rim of his spectacles. The intense gaze of his first teacher had always unnerved him, fleetingly making him feel like a child caught with a hand in the mochi jar. Sighing, the boiler man's gravelly voice traced the events that had passed in the hour he was out cold for, but he was out of the door once he realized that the words 'Chihiro' and 'Zeniba' were stringed together in one sentence.
At the landing outside the heavy metal door, he transformed quickly into a dragon. But before he could take off, a crippling bout of pain shot through him, causing him to crumple against the steel that could hardly hold his weight. Breathing out in harsh pants, he mustered just enough strength to launch into flight and allowed the wind to finish the work as he waited for the pain to subside. It did, after a while, fading back into the persistent hammering.
It was odd; curses could be vicious, but they never lasted once they have been properly broken. And it had to be, because he was no longer in that mind-numbing agony. So what explained this?
Diving down in front of the now-familiar cottage, he waited patiently for Chihiro to come out. He knew that Zeniba had probably sensed his presence about a mile away. And the little human girl did appear, peeking timidly out of the door before recognition flashed across her face, and she dashed forward to hug him. Surprise bowed his head; the girl embraced it whole-heartedly, murmuring to him softly. He knew that he cared for her because he always felt a sense of responsibility to the girl he once saved, but he never thought she regarded him truly as a friend. It was an unfamiliar feeling to him, having someone who truly cared for him. He was a dragon, a creature of ice and water and wind. Suddenly, faced with the warmth of a human, he froze in panic. But Zeniba had arrived at the door, and he bowed to her. At least he was familiar with respect.
A sharp pain flashed through his side as he lowered his body.
Chihiro had just crossed the field; he could feel the shift in the magic. As he turned to return to the ever-tumultuous bath house, he felt a bolt of pain shoot up his leg, and he crumpled at the hill. Fortunately, there was no one nearby. But if there were, they would have realized that they could just faintly make out the outline of the clock tower through him.
He hadn't gone to Yubaba about his name. Perhaps it was a problem with familiarity, but he couldn't bear to leave this wretched place. Even after enduring the contempt and fear of the workers, after endlessly doing the dirty work of the old witch, after spending hours on the roofs wishing for his freedom, he realized that he couldn't leave. No matter what he said to Chihiro, he was tied to this place by more than his name. So he decided to stay, if just for a little while more.
Lying on his futon and looking at the ceiling, he was about to drift off to sleep and a sharp pain seized hold of him, all too familiar, and he lay there, paralysed by the sudden attack, and its strength. With great difficulty, he lifted his hands up in a feeble attempt the hold his head, as though it would stop the pain, yet freezing in horror.
He was vaguely see-through, just like Chihiro had been before eating their food. But he was a spirit, wasn't he?
It was getting worse by the day, but still, he gritted his teeth and kept anyone from noticing his increasingly frequent attacks, or the fact that each time, the pain got worse and he faded even more, taking longer to return to his normal form.
On that day, Yubaba had sent him to worker's rest area to announce the arrival of an important guest the next day, so he traipsed down the wooden steps, feeling the eyes of the workers. He wasn't welcome to intrude on their safe haven; in the place where Yubaba saw less, and bad news always followed in his wake. It was odd, to the newcomers, how all the attendants were so terrified of a twelve-summers child, but they have, of course, learnt the errors of their ways.
However, there was something different about him today. Rin was the first to notice. She saw how he walked, and not glided like usually did. She saw how he stooped ever so slightly, as though for once, their exhaustion touched him. But soon, it was apparent to those nearest as he stood in the middle; there was a tiny crease in his brow, like he was in pain, and as he opened his mouth to speak, no sound came out.
Apprehensively, they glanced at each other, wondering if this was some new trick of the witch. Yet, he still made no sound. His eyes had widened, and his fist clenched together, blood draining from his already pale face. The ones nearest to him heard a strange scratchy sound coming from him, and slowly, it got louder and louder until they recognized it.
It was a scream of agony.
Rin watched as the ever so high and mighty Master Haku collapsed onto the ground, body convulsing as the horrible sound continued to pound their way into her ears. Watching his wide green eyes, she was abruptly reminded of the first time she met him, wearing this child's guise, with eyes clear as a river and filled with lost and pain. A yuna's voice screeched through the din.
"Master Haku's turning invisible!"
Turning back to him, she noticed that he had stopped producing any sound, in too much pain to do anything but be paralysed. And she watched, in mounting mortification, as he slowly changed, seemingly turning into a frosted glass sculpture, painted with the crimson liquid trickling out of his mouth, before passing out.
"Awake already?" The harsh cadence of Yubaba's voice cut through the pleasant haziness he was submerged in. Coming to consciousness, he noticed that he was in her office, lying in her office like a broken rag doll.
"Hmph. I can still sense my sister's spell on you. That sappy old fool; she made sure that only love can break the spell." Slyly, Yubaba taunted. "The curse isn't completely removed, only slightly faded, prolonging your time a little. Maybe Sen didn't love you enough? Maybe it wasn't pure and true enough?"
He ignored her. He knew that Chihiro was a child by human standards, and children loved people in their simple way; purely and truly. Then again, what she said did make sense; curses wouldn't remain after they have been properly broken. But since he still suffered from its aftereffects, meaning that only the brunt of it had been neutralized, not completely banished.
Why?
He stood on the bridge, where it all began and ended. It was here he first made the decision to be indentured to a mad old witch, it was here he met Chihiro again, and it would only be fitting if he died here. Because in the end it boiled down to the three of them.
He was dying because of Yubaba, but it was also because of her that he met Chihiro, and finally understood why he couldn't survive the curse. It wasn't Chihiro's fault; the young human child had truly and purely loved him, willing to make the ultimately sacrifice to safe his life. But the love wasn't true. For love to be true, in this case, it had to be mutual. And he understood why he couldn't cry when she had ran across the field without looking back.
Because he couldn't find it in himself to love her back.